


when the world goes boom

by taekwoonded



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, F/M, I did my best, I have a distinctive lack of medical knowledge, Lowercase, Original characters will be minimal, Originally written for friends but I wanted to post something, Please Forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8615026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekwoonded/pseuds/taekwoonded
Summary: being a military doctor isn't easy, but when you are one, you hope to god the only white you'll see is the familiar brightness of your lab coat.





	

this is chaos, hakyeon thinks to himself as he stops for a brief moment as he watches his camp swarm with nurses, members of the red cross, and soldiers under a brooding smoke cloud that only speaks of the death and destruction of war. it’s the only thought he can comprehend; the rest are scrambled by the sharp shove of an enemy soldier.

the man’s gruff voice grates his ears and hakyeon can only assume he’s being told to move; enemy soldiers tend to rarely bother with learning simple phrases and rely on their brutish, archaic language of pushing and prodding to get what they want. the only thing he can really do is close his eyes, take a deep breath, and comply. he walks, and he walks, and he walks until they stuff him in the back of a jeep so they can take off.

and who ever said being an army doctor meant you missed out on all the action? hakyeon himself has been captured by enemy troops a handful of times specifically for the added benefit of having another doctor on staff. regardless of what side he stood on, men and women were getting wounded in war and he was, still is, indispensable.

this was another one of those times. maybe, just maybe he should stop wearing his bright, white lab coat over his uniform. it’s a bit conspicuous. it’d be helpful to stop getting captured by enemy linesmen every so often, you know. his thoughts begin to drone like this and he knows the camp is being torn up. he knows they’re making a move for the next town, but what he doesn’t know lies along the lines of the safety of his friends and the flower that blooms in the shadow of crumbling churches. lord, does he pray that she’s alright.

he uses his last breath to pray for her safety and then the world goes white.

boom.

the explosion hits him like a freight train and pounds into his chest like a battering ram. the jeep is flying and all he can do is go along with it. the scrap metal lands upside-down with a deep clang and a horrific thud but he can’t hear it. his ears are ringing and his flesh is screaming with pain.

he should be dead. god, why isn’t he dead? the other men in the vehicle died on impact, he thinks, so why isn’t he dead? 

“shit,” he hisses as he scrambles to get out. he has to get out— fuck, how hasn’t the car exploded yet? he worms his way out of a broken window, gains a few new nicks here and there, and gets the hell away from the mound of imminent death as fast as he can on his elbow a knee. his left femur is broken, using that leg is nearly impossible considering the excruciating pain, but dragging it while his other limbs do all the work is just as bad. 

at least this way he doesn’t have to look at the bone protruding from his thigh at a sickening angle. 

his mind is racing but his body is slowing, he’s going into shock. fuck, fuck, fuck. that’s not good. breathe, focus, stop the bleeding. his thoughts are louder than his heartbeat and his hands are quick as they rip apart his coat for bandaging, but they’re no comparison for the speed of his heart. he keeps breathing and he keeps breathing. he’s calm, but he’s not safe.

he splints his leg and hopes to god he’ll be alright to crawl back to camp and that there’ll be a jeep and a few people left to help him. he doesn’t know the extent of his injuries and it’s not really recommended that he move so much in his current state, but he has no choice. staying out here, alone, is just as bad as crawling. it takes him a second, but he finds the resolve to get back to safety and inches back towards camp as quickly as he can. 

he doesn’t know how long it takes him, but he gets there and he almost cries at the sight at a few straggling jeeps. 

“help!” he shouts; his voice hoarse from smoke and gas and he coughs when carbon gets caught in his throat. he can’t move anymore; his body is giving out and he’s on the brink of unconsciousness. he tries again and again, trying to keep himself awake for as long as he can. but he’s tired and slowly, the world fades with him into the black, smokey nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm looking to improve my writing style so critiques are welcome. thank you for reading.


End file.
